Story Seeds: OWL Herbology Students Required
by Balthanon
Summary: The ungerminated seeds of a story, not quite as dangerous as a Venomous Tentacula to cultivate, but almost as time consuming... These are the beginnings and fragments of Harry Potter stories that I have started, but will likely not be doing anything else with for awhile. Generally speaking, I intend to pursue these at some point though the time and order is still up in the air.
1. Harry Potter and the Perils of Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

This will be a repository of Harry Potter story concepts that I enjoy enough to have started, but aren't going to be worked on actively for awhile. One shots and anything that I think I'm going to work on in the near future (or for which I have 2 or more chapters) will typically be published on their own. I do plan to pick up these stories eventually and move them out of here, they just aren't on the active docket for the time being.

* * *

 **Harry Potter and the Perils of Prophecy  
**

 _Chapter 1: The Triumvirate  
_

Rushing between the shelves filled with glass balls, Harry didn't notice the small fold in the carpet until it was too late. His foot caught on the obstruction and he went down with a woof, his breath knocked out of him, but making surprisingly little sound. As his friends rushed ahead, Harry rolled over, trying to catch his breath and then stopped for a moment as he made out the little yellowing label directly in front of him:

 _A.A.M. to T.M.R._

 _XXXXX Boy Who Lived_

 _and (?) Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Blinking, he reached out hesitantly and let his hand hover over the orb. This label was particularly old, but the Boy Who Lived was more recent than the rest- something else was written next to it and scratched out. The text was still aged, but not nearly to the extent of the rest.

"Psst. Harry, where are you?" Hermione's voice shook him out of his daze and he recalled Sirius abruptly. Hesitating only a moment, he grabbed the orb and shoved it into his robes. Putting it out of his mind, he ran off after his friends.

·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·

"...WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES..." The prophecy echoed in Harry's mind long after Dumbledore had left and Harry had been taken to the Hospital Wing to be checked for any lasting damage from the battle. Ron and Hermione were both asleep on adjacent beds, though Ginny, Neville, and Luna had all been released already and sent back to their dorms. He was supposed to be going back himself in fact.

Pulling his glasses off, Harry rubbed his eyes briefly and let himself fall back across the foot of Hermione's bed. Letting his arm flop over his chest, he paused for a moment as he felt something hard in his robes and abruptly recalled the orb he had taken from the Department of Mysteries.

Reaching into his robes, Harry was about to pull out the odd sphere, when he realized that he didn't want to do it out in the open. Not where Dumbledore or another Professor could see it. He wanted this for himself for now. He could decide what to do with it later.

Instead, he sat up, put his glasses on and left the room. The large double doors to the hospital wing were only unlocked on one side and he headed up the first set of stairs beyond that without any hesitation. He was heading for his dorm room, but as he passed the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy he hesitated.

He hadn't been back in the Room of Requirement since the D.A. was disbanded, but if he wanted privacy there was no place better. His dorm wasn't terribly secure given that Seamus or Dean could walk in at any time. Neville was probably already there in fact, and while he trusted him, he wasn't quite ready to share this with anyone. Not even Ron and Hermione really.

Mind made up, he quickly paced back and forth in front of the chamber. *I need a private room. I need a private room. I need a private room.*

As soon as the door showed, he grabbed the handle, pulled it open and dashed inside. The Room had provided a fairly small chamber with a couch to one side, two small tables, a merrily burning fireplace heating the air, and deep plush carpeting in a pale cream color. The circular walls were a muted blue-gray color and he could see the support beams criss-crossing the rooms with candelabra betwixt the joists.

Glancing back at the door, he muttered, "Colloportus," under his breath and then walked to the center of the chamber, pulling out the orb as he did so.

He wasn't really sure how the thing worked, but he didn't really want to start by breaking it. Eventually, he settled for rubbing it like a genie's lamp to start and that seemed to work well enough, as the silvery gray smoke he had seen in the Ministry streamed out of the orb and he was left watching two figures.

He didn't recognize the older of the two, but he was very startled to recognize Tom Riddle as the second. Immediately dropping the orb, he seized his wand and pointed it at the figure only to watch as it faded away to nothing. Blinking he looked around warily, then glanced down at the orb again.

"Oh, duh. It's an image or memory." Still, that meant what... Tom had given or received the prophecy? A.A.M. to T.M.R. it had said. He wasn't sure why he hadn't spotted that before- Tom Marvolo Riddle. He had certainly had enough trouble with those initials his second year.

Leaning down, he hesitated for a moment, then picked up the sphere again. Rubbing it, the same silvery-gray smoke poured out and formed Tom Riddle and the other man re-appeared.

Tom was apparently asking a question when A.A.M stiffened. The boy, or perhaps man at this point, since he appeared to be slightly older than the Tom Riddle that Harry had seen in the diary appeared startled, but he hid it quickly. He couldn't keep the look of fascination off of his face as the man who appeared to be a professor began speaking though.

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO EXTINGUISH THE BOY WHO WILL LIVE RISES... COURTED BY DARKNESS, SEDUCED BY LIGHT, CLAIMING GLORY EVEN AS THE SHADOW UPON THIS WORLD FADES... HE SHALL CHOOSE HIS OWN BANE, HIS POWER WELL KNOWN, BUT HIS CHOICES SHALL TEMPER THE BOY WHO WILL LIVE AND PROVIDE A BLADE OF DOUBLED EDGE...AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES... THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO EXTINGUISH THE BOY WHO WILL LIVE CLAIMS GLORY EVEN AS THE SHADOW UPON THIS WORLD FADES..."

Even as the figures were fading, Harry caught A.A.M. giving Tom a warm smile to the boy apparently asking questions that weren't recorded as he came out of his trance- before pulling his wand and saying, "Obli-".

The recording ended before the incantation was finished, but Harry could figure out what the Seer in question was doing. Again based on his second year experiences. He was surprised that Tom was caught by surprise like that, but he hadn't even seen him reaching for his wand.

As the Prophecy faded away into the air, its ringing tones having echoed around the chamber in a way the later spell didn't, Harry frowned to himself. He wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but... hearing two prophecies in one night was triggering an odd sense of deja vu. A nagging memory of something from his early childhood that wouldn't leave him alone.

Given the yellowing label on the prophecy, he supposed that meant that the one "courted by darkness, seduced by light, and claiming glory" was Dumbledore, but the rest didn't make a lot of sense. And assuming he was the "Boy Who Will Live" he didn't particularly like the sound of being "extinguished".

Carefully putting the orb on one of the tables, he tried to think about this, but that sensation that he was missing a piece of the puzzle wouldn't leave him alone.

Sitting on one of the couch cushions that the Room of Requirement had provided, he poked and prodded at the memory that was just on edge of recall with little luck. The clearest memories he had from when he was young were the ones that Snape had stirred up in their Occlumency lessons, and he was sure those weren't what was bugging him.

Grimacing, his hands clenched as he realized what he needed to do though. As terrible as his instructions were, as useless as they seemed, he needed to make use of what the Potions Professor had taught him in those lessons. Circling the wary memory that was trying to surface and thinking about what it might be wasn't working, so he would need to try and empty his mind. Release the emotions that were still causing his heart to race, his chest to clench, and his hands to tremble.

Snape seemed to think that you just thought it and emotions disappeared, but it had never worked like that for Harry. At home with the Dursley's, stuck in the closet, he had kept his sadness, anger, and fear bundled up until he found someplace to release them. The rumors about him being a mental case hadn't entirely been from rumors released by the Dursleys. When he was little, he would run away to the park, or a backyard where someone wasn't home and he would just... let it out. Scream, yell, and throw the tantrums that he wasn't allowed at home.

Eventually, Petunia had gotten word though, one too many neighbors having seen him and he found himself grounded for the better part of a month with nothing to eat but brussel sprouts, tofu, and all the other foods he had most despised at that age. Ones that Dudley and Vernon wouldn't touch with a three foot stick.

It had become a favorite punishment when he was younger, though he sometimes wondered later on if it was just Aunt Petunia trying to find an excuse to buy and eat the foods that she liked instead of the heavy meals that her husband and son favored.

After that, he just... bundled up the emotions and hid them deep down. They were never completely gone and over the years they had gotten pretty close to the surface, but... Ok, no point lying to himself, this year they hadn't just been near the surface. He had been lashing out with them routinely, but it wasn't like when he had just let go as a child. Dumbledore wasn't far off when he said that Harry couldn't stop caring, and letting those emotions out on others just generated more guilt, anger, and had the added benefit of making him disgusted with himself.

Still, if there was anyplace that was safe to get some release, it was here.

Glancing at the door and feeling a bit self-conscious, he layered a silencing charm on top of whatever the Room of Requirement did when you asked for privacy and then took a deep breath. He wasn't five anymore and this, well, even without an audience he thought this was going to be a little embarrassing, but it was worth trying.

Standing up, he walked to the center of the chamber, finally letting himself acknowledge the swirling morass of grief, anger, and other negative emotions again for the first time since his argument with Dumbledore. He layered the gut-wrenching fear that had been sparked by finding out about the prophecy on top of that and he yelled.

It didn't do much. Though truth be told, it had been a pretty sad attempt. He had been louder when he was yelling at Dumbledore. Taking a deep breath, he let it out, closed his eyes, and tried to remember the feeling of release from when he was a child.

Tilting his head back, he screamed this time. It was loud, his throat hurt after it was done, but it felt good, so he did it again. He didn't go for his wand, he didn't blow anything up or release his magic accidentally, he just let all of his feelings out. He ranted to the air about meddling Headmasters, sadistic Professors, scummy Dark Lords, absentee godfathers, jealous friends, and the fact that it wasn't fair. He screamed some more and in between and gradually it drained away and he eventually found himself on his knees in front of an obnoxiously cheerful fire.

Wiping his eyes, which certainly were not wet, just watering a little from the smoke in the air, he let out a deep, shuddering breath and let himself drift. He stared into the flickering flames, listened to the pops and cracks of the wood being consumed and thought of... nothing.

He let himself stay like that for an indeterminate length of time, then he carefully thought back, tried to bring up his oldest memories. They were... fuzzy. A familiar barking laugh, a flash of red, and warmth and... he felt a sense of wonder even as he drew back from the memories. Too far, though he would be be trying that again- if there was any chance of Occlumency letting him replace the single memory he had of his parents, he would study all summer. It wasn't like it required a wand.

For now though, he didn't want to lose that little niggling thought that had somehow survived the fierce maelstrom of emotion that he had just released. So he tried again, this time as he let himself drift back he kept the booming tones of the prophecies in his mind, guide posts to try and help him navigate what his subconscious was telling him.

He wasn't sure how long it took, but he finally thought he caught the memory. Not details, but... an outline of it anyway, almost as fuzzy as his parents, but it triggered that feeling of relief you get when you finally recall a word that is just on the tip of your tongue. It had been on a trip to London, one of the times those funny people in the weird clothes cornered him and fell all over themselves thanking him for something he was never quite able to get out of them.

This one had been more insistent than most and had found him playing by himself near a hedge while Dudders had his picture taken by the statues, fountains, and sculptures. While the odd little lady was thanking him for something she said he knew... No, he grinned to himself, for "You-Know-Who" he realized now, she had abruptly started talking in an entirely different voice.

The booming tones had attracted his Aunt and she had rushed over to pull him away. He frowned. He couldn't recall what the woman had said, but he was now certain it was a prophecy. Even if he recovered the memory in full he wasn't sure he had the full thing due to Petunia though.

It was probably worth trying to find it at least. Because after the damage that he and his friends had caused in the Hall of Prophecy, he couldn't be certain there was a sphere with a little label saying "little old ladies initials to H.J.P." left for him to review.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

So the basic concept behind this idea is that Dumbledore wasn't actually working with all the pieces of the puzzle when he made his plans based off of the prophecy that he heard. There are actually three inter-locking prophecies that were delivered to each of the main participants and essentially prophecy the doom of the other two: Harry Potter dooms Voldemort, Voldemort dooms Albus, and Albus dooms Harry Potter.

The end game? The prophecies are all about creating a single bearer of the Deathly Hallows and the reason Harry, Voldemort, and Albus were chosen was because they were destined to own (or already owned) the Cloak, Stone, and Wand and at least touch each of the other two.

This story is one of those where I have an idea of where I'd like it to end (though there are certainly other options) and a few concepts for how the middle will take place. When I next post in it, it may well be to finish it off entirely as I could see it only being two to three chapters long if I turn it into something a bit more along the lines of an extended one shot.


	2. Harry Potter and the River of Death

**Harry Potter and the River of Death**

 _Chapter 1: Cliche Endings  
_

* * *

 _Albus, Rose, Hugo, and Lily laughed. The train began to move, and Harry walked alongside it, watching his son's thin face, already ablaze with excitement. Harry kept smiling and waving, even though it was like a little bereavement, watching his son glide away from him. . . ._

 _The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. Harry's hand was still raised in farewell._

 _"He'll be all right," murmured Ginny._

 _As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead._

 _"I know he will."_

 _The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well._

* * *

"Are you sure?"

Ron's last question echoed in Harry's brain and he grimaced as he held his hands to his temples, the vision fading slowly. Ron and Hermione, both on their knees beside him, looked grim and his best friend asked, "Are we celebrating too soon? Did we miss one? Your scar isn't bleeding, but..."

Releasing his head, which was rapidly improving, Harry shook his head carefully. "No, it wasn't Voldemort, it was... I'm not sure what, really."

"I gave one last look at the wand and, well, I was considering whether I was really right." He paused, looking at it again, almost cautiously, with his eyes narrowed. He remained conscious though and there was no repeat of the odd dream or whatever it was that he had experienced just moments ago. Deliberately, he considered keeping the wand and finding the stone again. Nothing.

Hermione frowned at his expression, then said with no little amount of exasperation, "You just said you'd had enough trouble for a lifetime, Harry James Potter. And you're already reconsidering? What happened, a vision of power or what you could accomplish with the wand? Artifacts like this seem to want to survive and be used if Voldemort's Horcruxes are anything to go by."

He shook his head again, confused. "That's the weird thing. It wasn't anything like that." He paused, trying to arrange his thoughts and recall details of the vision he had just seen. Three children, Ginny, Ron and Hermione and their children- it all kind of spun around in his head with brief fragments of the previous nineteen years. Next nineteen years? Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was crystal clear, but it almost felt like he had lived the intervening years- gotten a glimpse of the happiness that he would have.

"It was... it was almost like a glimpse of things to come, with me well, happy, for lack of a better word. I had three kids and you two had a couple and we were sending them off to Hogwarts. It was kind of a happy ever after."

"That's a little bizarre, mate," Ron chimed in. "So it was like, trying to convince you to go ahead with your original decision or something?"

Harry nodded, his mind racing. "Why would the wand want its power to be broken, though?" he asked slowly, turning to look at the portraits again. He clambered to his feet, using Dumbledore's desk to pull himself up and holding the wand in front of himself. The collected assembly of headmasters were surprisingly silent, but he noted that Phineus Nigellus's eyes were on the lower right corner of a bookcase.

Hermione was already watching the portraits as well, though she hadn't risen to her feet. Harry glanced down at her and offered her his hand, since Ron had already stood up. She took it, then said, slowly and deliberately, "What if it wasn't the wand, Harry." Her hand dipped into the beaded bag she had carried around for the past six months and came up very briefly with the Tales of Beedle the Bard- one that matched a copy sitting near the bottom of the Headmaster's library he noted. She appeared shaken.

The eyes of most of the portraits seemed to be focused on the headmaster's chair for some reason at this point, and Harry saw one or two routinely disappearing from their portraits, then reappearing. Dumbledore appeared to be frowning at these, though he failed to do or say anything more himself.

Swallowing, Harry reached into his robes and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. Slipping it over himself, he let out an involuntary gasp and reached back for Hermione, gripping her arm as if it could convince him that he was awake and seeing what had appeared as soon as he let the cloak slip over his head.

A tall figure sat in the Headmaster's chair, a pitch black cloak shrouding its features in shadow that obscured anything within other than a hint of a tiny blue star deep within the depths of the cowl.

"Hermione. Ron. Do you... see that?" he whispered.

His friends glanced over in the direction of his voice apprehensively, then slowly shook their heads. He had been afraid of that.

However, the absolute stillness of the figure was disturbed briefly as the blue eye (or so he assumed) blinked out momentarily, then reappeared and... moved out? Harry blinked as a tiny figure in a cloak stepped out of the cowl, seemingly walking on air.

Clad in an almost identical replica of the outfit out of which it had just walked, the tiny figure appeared to be a small skeleton of a... rat? Twin pinpricks of a cold blue light gleamed within the eye sockets of the creature and it was holding a little scythe in one paw and a piece of cheese in the other.

With great solemnity, for a tiny upright figure of a rat skeleton, it pointed at Harry.

SQUEAK.

The wizard in question blinked. "Umm... Hermione, did you see anyone slip anything into the food in the Great Hall?" This resulted in a frown, then a shake of the head from his friend as she slowly stepped away from the chair the portraits had been pointing at.

SQUEAK. SQUEAK, SQUEAK.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes, gave himself to the count of ten and then opened them again. He sighed in relief. The rat skeleton was gone.

"Sorry about that. I usually have less trouble stabilizing."

Whirling around, Harry almost lost his Cloak and did manage to knock over Ron, who protested with a curse that had Hermione hissing his name indignantly. As he stabilized himself, however, Harry found himself staring at a rather good looking woman with pale skin, a tatoo around one eye, rather tight and revealing black clothing, and a silver ankh pendant around her neck.

"Who are you?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly at the cheerful smile on the woman's face.

Grinning, the woman said, "Come now, you've already figured it out, haven't you? You can say it."

"Death," Harry stated flatly. The word caused the fierce whispers he had been ignoring between Ron and Hermione to stop rather abruptly, the bushy haired girl letting out a little squeak, despite having been the one who had considered the possibility in the first place.

"Bingo." She smiled prettily again, though he realized abruptly that after his little stumble, she was looking perhaps a foot to the right of where he was actually standing. Of course, Hermione and Ron were still openly staring at the chair with their mouths open, so there was that. Still a bit interesting though.

"You're really supposed to be Death? Capital 'D'? Why don't you look like a skeleton anymore?"

This statement caught Hermione's attention again and a cross expression flitted across her face, much like the time he and Ron had played keep away with a book she had been looking to read for over a week. Also much like that time, just before the two of them came to regret the little game, her face morphed into a determined expression and she darted a hand out at him that caught hold of the Cloak. Harry grabbed at the other side, trying to prevent it from sliding off of him and she scowled. "There is no way I'm missing this, Harry, hold still!"

"Fine! Just be careful." The ginger-haired boy beside him snorted at the behavior of his girlfriend and finished getting to his feet, a bit farther away this time. A moment later, Hermione was under the Cloak and Harry was almost deafened as she let out a shriek at seeing Death.

"It's Death!"

"No kidding? I said that, Hermione."

"No, it's Death! From the Endless! Oh, my god. This is amazing!"

Attention pulled from the presumable incarnation of the most inevitable force in the Universe, Harry eyed his friend oddly. "What on Earth are you on about, Hermione?"

"It's a comic book by Neil Gaimann. It's amazing. She's like my favorite fictional character ever. Except she's not. Fictional that is. I don't believe this, she's exactly like I pictured her, but I never in a million years would have thought she was the actual Death."

This seemed to finally provoke a response from Death herself, who smiled in something approximately the direction of the excited witch. "Maybe he knew something. Or maybe I'm just pulling this from your head as your ideal version of Death," she said after a moment, her smile widening slightly.

"Hah!" Harry poked at Hermione, his own grin widening at the abrupt flush on the witch's cheeks that only he could see. "I didn't even know you read comics. I thought it was all text books, super boring histories, and magical treatises."

Slapping her friend's hand away, Hermione said, "Shush, you, she'd probably be a skeleton Quidditch Keeper or something if it were up to you and Ron. And I'll have you know I had an excellent collection of fantasy novels at home. At least until I started living one, complete with the scary adventures and everything."

"Umm, guys, facing off against a living, breathing Avada Kedavra here," Ron reminded them, which did sober the two a little. "One who is also invisible and inaudible to some of us, thanks a lot." Harry almost missed the last bit, which was muttered under Ron's breath, but he wasn't trying too hard to keep it from him.

"So, uh, it's an honor and all, I guess, but, umm... what are you doing here? Was that vision or whatever from you?" Harry still almost felt like he had jumped back in time, rather than simply had a weird dream of some kind.

Death nodded simply and said, "Something like that. It was on my behalf anyway."

Hermione's breath caught, and she started peering around the room into shadows, but Harry ignored that. He assumed it was something else related to the comic books that she liked.

"A little look at what is to come, should you hold to your convictions. Not such a bad life I think."

Harry nodded slightly, not that she could see that. "It wasn't, but why bother? I mean I wasn't really thinking seriously about keeping them. Is that whole 'Master of Death' thing literal?"

This provoked a slight giggle and she shook her head. "No, no immediate promotion to the boss of me if you happen to collect the Hallows. I'm afraid this is a one woman job and I have awhile to go yet before I can quit or hand over my responsibility to another."

"Then what do you care? What can they do that is so terrible?" Harry was a little curious at this point and wondered if the woman, force, or whatever she was in front of him knew that this was making him more likely to look into the Hallows than less.

"Ah, ah. Not going there. No clues I'm afraid."

"So are you going to try and take them away, then? If they're that bad?" Harry asked, not entirely sure if he'd put up a fight for them or not at this point. He would hate to lose his Invisibility Cloak, but he had already planned to give up the wand and stone, so it wasn't like he would really be losing anything other than that.

Death shrugged and shook her head. "No, not really my place. This was really more of an affirmation, maybe a reward for services rendered even. This life is behind door number one, it's a good life. That's all I was really trying to get across." She smiled again and hopped down off of the hardened air or whatever she had been sitting on. Brushing her hands together as if dusting something off, she appeared ready to vanish.

Harry was about to protest, when she held up a finger. "One more thing- if you do decide against a simple life, don't use the stone while it is still damaged. I'd rather not come and get you before your time." This confused Harry, because he was fairly certain he had already used the stone without any noticeable ill effects. Other than that slightly disconnected feeling, of course. Already having been determined to die, it was hard to say if that was his state of mind at the time or something else. And if something else what kind of effect would that have on him now when he wanted to live. Was the numbness that had ended with him dropping the stone actually just fear or paralysis in the face of his death as he had assumed?

"Before his time?" Harry started, having forgotten about Hermione at his side. They had done this frequently enough that even with the rather close confines now that they were both adults, her presence brushing up against him was comfortable enough that he scarcely noticed.

Death paused for a moment at the question, her mouth twisting as she tried to find the correct words. "Well, such as it is, anyway. Just a turn of phrase really. I am fairly certain pre-destination is done with Harry at this point. All three of you, in fact. I'm always there if you need me though." This, presumably inside, joke caused her to laugh again, though Hermione also giggled, so perhaps she could explain it later.

Harry blinked as Death turned away and he finally asked, "So that's it?"

"Yep."

"Most anti-climactic confrontation with the ultimate end of everything ever." He shook his head. This entire encounter was just bizarre and, well, not at all what he would have expected out of facing the Death described in the Tale of the Three Brothers that Hermione had read to them. There had to be something he could do to get her to tell him something else about what was going on. Death simply smiled though and turned away. Opening the door, she took a step and he hurriedly reached out, stepping forward to grab her. Hermione's eyes widened beside him and she stepped forward as well, though it looked as if she was grabbing for his arm, rather than Death.

With both of their eyes mostly on Death, it took a moment, however, to realize that they were no longer in Dumbledore's study. Instead, they were standing outside of the castle on a bluff overlooking the Forbidden Forest. Both he and Hermione froze at the sight, then Death took another step and was gone.

Eyes tracking across their surroundings, both Harry and Hermione looked back and saw Hogwarts with the sun just cresting its tallest towers behind them. As Harry pulled off the Cloak with one hand, just barely holding on to it, he met his friend's gaze. They held that tableau for nearly a minute, then she proceeded to rap him on the forehead with her knuckles. Hard. Ouch.

"What were you thinking, Harry? Were you really going to try and hold Death back with your bare hands?"

He grinned, though it was strained. This had been a rough day and he was feeling a touch hysterical again. The 19 odd years of acceptance that had been stuffed between his ears gave him a little perspective that he hadn't had when they headed up to Dumbledore's study though. "Ok, maybe not the best idea I've ever had, I realize. It's not the most dangerous though, you have to admit that."

This didn't have quite the effect he was hoping for, as Hermione burst into tears instead of laughing and grabbed him in a hug so tight that he was having trouble breathing. As he gingerly wrapped his own arms around her, he felt a little like letting some of his grief out himself, but just tightened his arms around Hermione instead.

"I thought you were dead, you know," she finally said, her voice muffled and a bit broken by sniffling as she fought back the last of her tears. She didn't bother to pull away. Instead she simply rubbed her face against his robes, tears and no little amount of snot adding to the grass, dirt, soot, and blood that already made them a lost cause.

"I know. I'm sorry."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, then Hermione finally pulled away, wiping her eyes. Pulling her wand out, she did a better job of cleaning herself up, then did the same for Harry before she pulled herself up. "I've had a thought and I want you to tell me if I'm being foolish."

Harry raised an eyebrow, then said, "Well, I am the expert."

This got an exasperated sigh from the bushy-haired girl, though it did hide a smile. "You know that's not what I meant. Ok, let's start a different way. What is the biggest limit on magic, the rule that absolutely can't be broken?" Her voice had taken on the lecturing tone from fourth and fifth years.

Groping for an answer, Harry finally said, "Uh, the food thing? Gramp's Law of Elemental Something?" It had been awhile since they had gone to class and at this point, Harry frankly wasn't sure he was going to bother going back. He didn't think he had in the vision, though truthfully, most of those memories were of family and friends, rather than training, work, and the like.

"Honestly, Harry, even Ron remembered that." Hermione gave him a wry look. "No, I was thinking more fundamental. Resurrection, actually." She finally added, after Harry had started to look blank again.

He smiled apologetically. "Sorry, it's been a long day or two at this point. Yeah, I do remember that though. You can't bring people back from the dead." He actually remembered asking about that sometime during his first year, after he had run across the Mirror of Erised. McGonagal had ultimately been the one to field the question and while she hadn't gone into details on some of the horrors he would run across later, she had been very firm that it simply was not possible. Not just inadvisable, dangerous, or foolhardy, but could not be done.

Hermione nodded and said, "The thing is though... do you know, for sure, that you weren't actually dead?"

"Well," Harry said slowly, thinking, "Dumbledore definitely said I wasn't, he mentioned me being tethered to life. But he also said that I could move on if I wanted, that it was a choice."

"That's the thing that stood out to me, too. And... while it's probably dangerous, it makes me wonder in light of the experience we just had." She looked over at Hogwarts again, and Harry followed her gaze taking in the smoke still hovering in the sky near the castle, the bodies of the giants and acromantula that had not yet been disposed of, and the courtyard he knew she couldn't see into that held the solemn rows of smaller, white, shrouded bodies.

"Almost everyone has ties to life after they're gone. Perhaps not magical and I'm sure not as strong as those that Voldemort inadvertently created. Not enough to just let you... return. But what if they're enough to work with? If you have the right tools?" Her gaze turned from Hogwarts to the Cloak that Harry still held in his left hand and the Wand in his right. "Dumbledore said the real strength of the Cloak was the ability to protect and shield others. You can Disillusion another person though or place a Shield in front of them. What if the Cloak and the other tools let you go beyond what normal magic allows though? What if it lets you reach those who can't normally be reached?"

She fell silent at that point and didn't press Harry for an answer, so he took his time thinking. He traced his way back through the things that Dumbledore had said, those he hadn't, and he thought about their recent encounter with a strangely pragmatic and lackadaisical Death. One apparently unconcerned with how her own tools would be used, if she was the one to originally create them as the stories said.

Finally, he said softly, "To the well-organized mind, death is the next great adventure.

"I wondered a little, after Dumbledore told me that and then again earlier today, what would qualify as a well-organized mind? And if you don't have a 'well-organized mind', what is death to you then?" He looked up at Hermione, who was looking curious at where he was heading with this and a little horrified at the latter. "Snape was a horrible teacher, but one of the things he emphasized in our sessions was that I needed to control my emotions, discipline my mind. That sounds a lot like having a 'well-organized mind' to me.

"I don't know about you, but of the people who died today, I only know maybe... three or four, that were probably trained in Occlumency. And at least two of those were Death Eaters."

Turning, he started walking further into the Forbidden Forest, aiming for the former home of the acromantulas, Hermione hurrying to catch up after a few moments. Smiling over at her to take some of the solemnity out of the situation, he said, "I for one, think that your questions deserve a little research at least. And we'll definitely need to bring Ron in on it. But he probably won't want to be there for this next part."

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

So ultimately, I'm seeing this as kind of a crossover between Harry Potter and Odysseus/Opheus legends. (Possibly 'The Sandman', but I haven't read enough of it at this point to do it justice so probably more cameos from a large number of fictional Deaths.)

Obviously, the epilogue in Deathly Hallows was actually a vision sent by Death of what Harry's life could be like if he ignores the Hallows. Harry decides to use them anyway- ends up essentially gaining the ability to cross the River Styx except the Hallows have the ability to bring someone back with him. I see each of the Hallows having a different function, with the overall goal being "let's resurrect people" and the story as a whole would probably have three major arcs. Exploring the Hallows and figuring out exactly what they do would be the first part of the story.

One of the major inspirations for this story was the line about Death being the next great adventure for the 'well organized' mind that Dumbledore is fond of (or at least says once). My immediate thought on that was- so what is Death to those who don't have a well-organized mind? Seems kind of unfair that those who didn't bother to become Occlumency masters in life are screwed out of a cool afterlife. In this case, I'm giving Harry the tools to do something about it. The other inspiration was that, frankly, I think Rowling went a little nuts with the deaths at the end of Deathly Hallows. While death can lend a certain gravitas to some stories, using it as a stick to beat someone over the head with and saying, "Hey, see? This is a serious story with serious consequences" always annoys me. Particularly when it seems thrown in almost as an afterthought. Or when you're George R.R. Martin and go through PoV characters like tissue paper.

The second phase of this fic would probably be utilizing the Hallows- potentially on a scale that they has never been seen before, because Harry isn't necessarily going to stop with his immediate friends and family due to the whole "saving people thing". He will start there though and those will probably be the only ones that are actually written up in the story rather than summarized. At it's root, this would be about recovering people who haven't moved on and searching out those who are reincarnating before they go too far. Order would probably end up being dependent on strength of mind, attachment to material world (parents), and other factors.

The third part of the fic would probably overlap a bit with the latter parts of the second, because there have to be some consequences to bringing that many people back from the dead. And here I am talking less about potential magical consequences and more implications of what actual resurrection being available means for the Wizarding World in moral, political, legal, and other terms. Haven't really delved into this much, but I suspect there's a lot to play around with here.


	3. Untraceable Happiness

**Untraceable Happiness**  
 _Chapter 1: Introductions_

 **Author's Note:** This one probably falls into the more mature side of things due to the subject matter. The first chapter doesn't really come outright and say what's going on, but the snippet at the bottom from fourth year is more explicit.

* * *

When the skinny boy didn't come out from the narrow nook that the tubby kid and his little gang had chased him into Tobias frowned. He had been keeping an eye on fatso, but judging by the scowl on his face it didn't look like he had caught up with the little kid he and his little gang of delinquents were always chasing. Which was impressive. He had gone to this elementary school and he was pretty sure that was a blind alley. Alcove? Nook? Whatever. It wasn't very big anyway and this wasn't exactly a street, but alley was as good a description as any.

Looking over the area, he couldn't really see into the alley from his position outside of the school grounds. The buildings on either side of it were two stories though, crumbling brick and maybe a bit of ivy. The walls were faced on the ground floor with a bit of weathered stone that was probably supposed to make it look more institutional or some shit like that, but really just looked kind of mismatched and probably meant some big wig in the school district had given the contract to build it to his retarded second cousin.

A quick glance in either direction revealed no witnesses, so Tobias grabbed the rusty chain link fence as high up as he could and then quickly scaled it, hopping over a moment later and landing with his knees flexed. He wasn't into sports or anything, but in his line of work it paid to be fit enough to run and climbing a fence quickly was a good skill to pick up.

He was no where near young enough to be at this school, but he cut a clean enough figure and he could have been some poor kiddies' older brother. Running a hand through close-cropped brown hair, he smiled crookedly to himself, revealing teeth that put the lie to the slightly polished exterior he displayed. He tried to avoid smiling because of that, but he tended to be a pretty easy going guy.

Still, he could pose with the best of them and he strolled casually towards the alley that was situated between the administration building, the gym, and the main class facility. A blind alley, he confirmed for himself with a quick examination of the surroundings. The walls were much the same here as they were elsewhere on campus and the only exits to the place were a chained door into the gym that obviously hadn't seen use in some time if the rust was anything to go by and... he glanced up, following a few of the lengths of ivy that trailed their way up the wall.

Interesting. He wouldn't want to try it himself, but a skinny kid like the one that had been chased in here might be able to pull it off if he got lucky with some good footholds. Porky probably would have pulled the wall down on himself and it would explain why he had left frustrated.

Sure enough, a minute or so later, he caught a brief glimpse of a head of messy black hair and the gleam of light on glasses. Bingo. Course the kid vanished as soon as he saw him, but that wasn't a surprise. He wouldn't come out either for some stranger. Wasn't going to stand, but he understood.

"Hey, kid, get over here. I want to talk."

As he had half expected, this request didn't get much of a response, but he gave him a minute or so anyway. He didn't have anywhere to be right now.

"Ok, try number two, kid. I can still hear you panting up there, so I know you're there. Come out and talk or I can go get the principle or something." Not that he had any intention of doing that, but it would give him a good indication of how the brat felt about authority figures. Again, useful.

Apparently, the answer was not fond or trusting on the authority figures thing, because after another half a minute or so, the kid leaned over the edge of the building again, eying him warily.

He was a little impressed with the brat honestly. Yeah, he was on his stomach, but he was leaning a good foot or more over the edge. The little snot must have balls of brass to do that without so much as a hint of vertigo. Still, he should probably respond- the kid had just asked something. What was it? Oh, right. "What do you want?" Simple enough.

"Let's start with your name, easy enough, right?"

This got another suspicious stare that Tobias didn't let bother him before the boy said, "Harry Potter."

"See? Easy, Harry. You mind if I call you Harry?" He didn't wait for an answer. "My name's Tobias, Harry. And I'll be honest, I only know you're up there because I was watching to see if you were about to get the snot kicked out of you. Your little bully situation caught my attention only because Dudley is starting to get a bit of a reputation."

Though now that he thought about it, if this kid was the Harry he was thinking of, he wasn't a saint himself if the reports he had received were anything to go by- he didn't seem the type to strut about breaking the rules though. Rumor (i.e. his kid sister's word) said he was the quiet type. That was okay though.

The kid hadn't said much up to now, but this statement seemed to catch his attention, and he asked, "What kind of reputation?"

This elicited a smile from Tobias, tight-lipped, no teeth, but it did the job. Set people at ease. Or as easy as anyone got around him anyway. "Mostly what I just said. Kid's a bully, but he's a ringleader. Taking his friends down the broken path, likes to hurt people who can't hurt him back and is good about not getting caught out by the people who matter."

This caused Harry to gape at him in astonishment and Tobias nearly snickered to himself. The last bit was apparently confirmed judging by what the kid said next. "How'd you hear about that? Most of the teachers think Dudley can't do wrong. Most of the students too."

"I don't limit myself to the official channels. That's not really why I wanted to talk to you though, I'm more impressed with the fact that you managed to evade pork butt and his little posse. That says a bit for your skills, kid."

This seemed to make Harry a bit uncomfortable, but Tobias ignored it. "Anyway, I had a little opportunity for someone at this school and was considering Duds back there. But this..." He took a moment to glance down at the walls and vines and then back up at Harry. "...makes me think you might fit too."

"Umm, fit in what?"

"A lucrative business opportunity- is what I would say to some schmuck on the street. But you're what, 9 years old? 10 maybe?" He got a slight nod at the first number. That was good really, it meant he'd be around the school for two years before he transferred. He'd found continuity was good in his line of business. "What I'm talking about is spending money I'm guessing you don't got a lot of based on your clothes."

This elicited another scowl from the kid, but it wasn't directed at Tobias- he had glanced off towards the distance, presumably his house. Apparently his parents were skin flints if they were dressing him in that garbage. The kid was swimming in his shirt and pants.

"People don't just give away pounds, what do I need to do?" Harry asked, curious.

"For the moment, you just run some errands for me, let me know what's going on around the school."

Reasonable enough and you didn't just come out and ask a kid outright to get into this business. Not if you didn't want some precocious punk snitching on you as soon as he was out of your sight. You felt them out first.

Harry looked suspicious nonetheless though, which was a positive sign. A bit of healthy paranoia would mean he'd last longer. "Why do you want to know that? I'm going to get in trouble if people see me talking to a kind of shifty adult."

Shifty? Apparently he needed to work on his appearance a bit more. Still, no harm done really, the kid was already talking to him and that was half the battle right there. He sighed elaborately and raised an eyebrow at the kid.

"More than dyeing an old woman's hair blue? Your reputation is already shot kid."

"That wasn't me!" Harry protested immediately. "I don't know what did it, but it wasn't me." He looked sullen and Tobias figured he probably got these accusations a fair bit. He shrugged in response to the disclaimer.

"Don't really matter, Harry. Whether it was you or your cousin telling tales, you've got a reputation around school and the neighborhood." He eyed the kid, wondering what his reaction to this next bit would be. "You've really got two options. You can go on protesting it. With no results. Or you can make it your own."

"Huh?" The kid in the glasses looked confused and he rubbed a finger in one ear.

Tobias grinned up at him. "You heard me. Make it your own. If they're going to paint you black, you might as well take advantage of it."

"And I can do that by running errands for you?" Harry looked skeptical and his tone was dubious at best.

Tobias responded by pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket, peeling three bills off of it and laying them on the ground in front of himself. He set a small rock on them to make sure they didn't blow away. He grinned up at the kid's wide eyed stare and said, "That answer your question?"

He got a nod in response, the kid's eyes wide.

Giving a jaunty little wave, he turned around and walked away. He'd been doing this since he wasn't much older than the kid on the roof. He'd never actually been out of the city, but if he could be forgiven for a fishing metaphor, the hook was baited and a little slack on the line would get 'em in position to set the hook deep. This little job was done for now, he'd be around and the kid would come to him next time.

This was the start of a beautiful relationship.

ooOoo

Watching the crowds like Tobias had taught him, Harry smiled tightly, closed lips just like his mentor, though he didn't have the same dental problems. His friend had dropped him off early at the train station, saying he had some errands to run in the city anyway. He could have let the Dursleys' take him, but after the disaster when he had told them he wasn't going to Stonewall he hadn't really wanted to try and push things.

He had been a bit stumped by the nine and three quarters thing, until he had stepped back to watch the area. He had caught a bushy haired girl explaining to her parents exactly how one was supposed to gain access though and just like that he was in. Truthfully, the girl sounded more than a little high strung. He suspected she could use a little relaxation, but she also seemed to be about the sharpest person he had run into since crossing the divide. Probably better to leave her be for now.

Later, he'd see. In the meantime, he was just glad he'd gotten here so early. She had been invaluable and he thought she might be useful too, given how she'd pounced on him as soon as he stepped through the wall. The place had been more or less abandoned this early in the morning and he'd gotten the chance to play the part of the earnest young man. Given his reputation in Little Whining that didn't happen often.

Now though, he was sitting on the Hogwarts Express waiting to go to a school of magic. One that would teach him how to use his greatest strength and that seemed... he paused, searching for the word and then just settled on "weird".

The girl, Hermione rather, he should probably start using her name, was practically bouncing as they got under way. He just kind of sat back and absorbed the endless nattering though, nodding periodically and listening to her the same way he did any of his classmates when they were a little strung out.

"Harry!"

"Hermione!" He grinned, taking the sting out of the mocking tone.

She scowled at him. "You're not listening at all."

He shrugged. "Well, not really. I did catch some of it, but I'm just trying to think what we'll do when we actually get to this place." No real point in hiding it. Tobias said you should try to be as honest as you could except when it counted. No point in being caught out lying and breaking someone's trust over something stupid.

"Change into our robes," she said promptly.

He rolled his eyes at the pedantic reply, then paused and said, "Robes?"

She tilted her head as if confused, then nodded, her bushy hair bouncing with the action.

"Aren't those just for like lab or night or something? They really expect us to wear bath robes around the school?" Harry hadn't even gotten the requisite "three" robes just because it seemed kind of stupid to own that many. He had gotten one in black like they requested and brought the cool deep red one that he had gotten himself for Christmas last year.

"Are you joking?" Hermione waited for a moment as he shook his head and then said, "Didn't Professor McGonagal come to explain all of this? For that matter, didn't you notice all the people in the train station after we were through the wall?"

Harry paused, staring absently past Hermione's head at the light wood paneling in the train. His vision blurred slightly as he let his eyes unfocus and he absently started to rub his eyes before he remembered his contact lenses.

Martialing his thoughts, he asked, "You mean that by robes, you're talking about the dresses all the guys and girls were wearing?"

"Well, I suppose," Hermione said after a moment, then giggled. "I hadn't really thought of it like that. The school robes are a bit more like bathrobes when you look at it that way though."

Harry sighed in relief. Well, he wasn't going to be forced into cross-dressing at least. Not that there was anything wrong with that per se, he had met a few people who liked to do that when he went into London with his friend, but he didn't think it was something he wanted to get into.

"Well, that's good at least. So I've got that covered, kind of. Did that McGonagal person really come to talk to you about this stuff?"

This got another nod from his new associate and a brief explanation of muggleborn, Diagon Alley, and the wonders of the Wizarding World. Which, it seemed, was even more bizarre than he had expected from a group of people who could do the stuff he did on a regular basis. As she finished, or as he cut her off when she started to get into the books, he said, "Wonder why that didn't happen for me then."

Hermione blinked and said, "None of it? How did you get to Diagon Alley without a witch or wizard to show you?"

"I didn't." He shrugged.

"But what about your supplies, you can't go without supplies at school!" She sounded almost distressed, as if the idea of not having everything exactly in order for learning was physically hurting her. He gave another tight-lipped grin. She definitely needed something to help her mellow out.

"Oh, I got those. Or the ones I could track down anyway." He stood and pulled down one of the duffel bags he had brought, the one that had mostly clothes and essentials rather than just enough to hide a few months of goods until he could track down a supplier.

Pulling out his robes, he showed off the shimmering material of the black robe and his red as she gaped at him. They weren't actually silk, but they looked close enough. He thought they were pretty slick. He then pulled out a knit cap that was kind of pointed. He wasn't sure why they had demanded that, but this one had a bit of a peak and he figured it would do for the cold Scottish winters. Combined with the warm leather gloves and the parka he had brought, he figured he would be covered.

After he had pulled out the final item, Hermione exclaimed, "But that's not what they asked for at all!"

He blinked at her, nonplussed. "Sure it is. Well, other than the whole cloak thing, which just seemed like a joke. The coat is a much better investment. I even did the whole name tag thing-" He turned the coat inside out and displayed the neatly sewn tag affixed to the store tag explaining that the coat was machine washable in cold water.

For some reason, his demonstration caused Hermione's eyes to widen again and she seized the coat briefly, then looked up at Harry. "Harry... Potter?"

Oh, right. Damnit. He gave a lackluster smile and said, "Ahh... yeah, you've heard of me, I take it?" He wasn't sure why his reputation had spread as far as it had, but he had run across people all over the county that had heard of him and even as far as London. The only thing he had ever been able to figure was that Vern told stories about him to break the ice at his business meetings or something.

It was why he usually just introduced himself as Harry. Well, one of the reasons.

"How could I not? You're famous!" Hermione scrambled for her own trunk and nearly pulled it down on her own head in her excitement. It took the two of them to shunt it off to the side instead and she immediately pounced on it, opening the lid and exposing stacks and stacks of books. No wonder that thing had weighed a ton. How had she even gotten it onto the upper rack on her own?

Moments later, that question was dashed from his mind as she held up a book in both hands, pushing it at his face and causing him to backpeddle. "The Rise of the Dark," he read and slapped a hand to his face. Really? What the- did they have lists of bad children that you could nominate for inclusion in something like this? He was sure the Dursley's would have submitted him if it was possible, but even with his... extracurriculars, he didn't think he deserved to be in an entire book like that.

"What?" Hermione blinked and turned the book around, then said, "Ahh, no, sorry, my hand was obscuring the title. It's actually 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts'."

"Okay..." Like that was so much better. He glanced up and saw that she was correct though. "So what's in it?" His imagined book topic wouldn't really make sense for Hermione to own anyway, other than as an example of what not to do, which he suspected was completely unneeded for the straight laced little girl.

Hermione blinked, then narrowed her eyes at him- apparently still not sure he wasn't pulling her leg. Apparently deciding that he was not in fact lying about this, she said, "It's about a war that happened a decade ago. It's quite fascinating and very pertinent to us as muggleborn... ahh, sorry, I guess you're not muggleborn." This seemed to deflate her a bit, but she rallied quickly and continued talking before he could say that he almost certainly was. "There was a really evil wizard, who they don't actually name in the book for some reason. It seemed like a very odd omission, actually. They just kept referring to him as 'You Know Who', which is entirely insufficient if you _don't_ know who, of course. And-"

Harry interrupted, as he could already feel them getting off topic. "So evil wizard and I'm guessing it's about his rise and his fall. I don't see why I would be mentioned though."

Hermione blinked. "Well, you're the 'Fall' in the book title, Harry!"

"I'm what?" This time it was Harry's turn to pause. That made no sense.

Hermione started flipping through the book, starting somewhere near the back. "You destroyed this 'You Know Who' when you were only a year old."

Harry scoffed. "I think I would remember that." When Hermione raised an eyebrow, he flushed a little and coughed into his hand. Well, maybe not. "Ok, well, someone would have told me at least. Maybe it's a different Harry Potter? I went to school with at least three other Harrys."

Reaching out, Hermione paused right before her hand was about touch his hair and his eyes crossed trying to look at the hand in front of them. "May I?" she asked, nodding towards his hair.

He shrugged, a little bewildered by her actions, but finally just shrugged and said, "Yeah, sure, knock yourself out."

Her fingers slipped beneath the fringe of his hair and pushed it up, revealing the distinguishing scar on his forehead. He had always kind of liked it, but at some point he thought he might need to get it removed or something. It was too easy to recognize. For now, he just grew his hair kind of longish to keep it mostly hidden.

Hermione's other hand traced the scar briefly, then she dropped both to the book in her lap and spun it around to face him. Illustrated in the center of the book was a painting that was... well, pretty darn close to him. It had shorter hair and it was wearing round glasses and one of the dresses, or rather robes, that the people at the train station had been wearing, but other than that it was almost dead accurate.

It also had something of a smirk, which wasn't an expression that Harry wore often. He was way more confident than he was before he met Tobias, and he hadn't been a wallflower or anything, but it was a pretty big step up to the cocky expression on the painting's face. Though that changed as Harry watched, almost as if it was a little TV screen in the book instead of a picture. When it looked at him and its eyes went wide with recognition, he quickly reached out and slammed it shut though.

That was super creepy.

"I'm surprised I didn't recognize you earlier," Hermione said after a few moments of silence. "It really is an uncanny resemblence given that they go on to say you haven't been seen for 10 years. I'm not sure how they did that."

"That!?" Harry cleared his throat after the exclamation, there had been a definite crack in there. He continued a bit more calmly, though the low-key demeanor he tried to maintain was definitely a bit shot. "It was moving. It even looked at me."

She nodded excitedly and broke into a brilliant smile that revealed teeth with problems- not the same ones that Tobias had, hers were a shiny white he wasn't sure was natural and almost rigidly even, but her front teeth were abnormally large. "It's magic. Isn't it exciting? I once had a crayon drawing that started moving on its own after my father didn't pay much attention to it in favor of watching football. I bet this is like that."

He nodded slowly, still recovering from the shock and asked, "So what else did this book say about me? I guess this was after the accident, since they know about the scar."

"Accident?"

"Yeah, the one my parents died in." He tried to be matter of fact about that, playing the 'orphan' card tended to get mixed reactions. He wasn't fond of the most common, pity, in anything but authority figures.

Hermione frowned and flipped a couple pages back in the book. No reaction at all to the orphan comment, so maybe she knew. "This doesn't say anything about an accident, it said that your parents were killed in the attack by the dark wizard."

"Really?" Harry reached for the book and the girl handed it over readily. He took a few minutes to read the pages that she had opened and a few more beyond that. It read a lot like a novel and his parents- he paused. There were paintings of his parents in the book too.

When the silence had gone on longer than was comfortable, Hermione hesitantly asked, "Are you alright, Harry? I didn't mean to..." She trailed off miserably and he took a moment to calm himself and blink away the slight dampness that might have been accumulating in his eyes.

"I'm fine, Hermione. Great even." He paused for a minute, searching for words and finally settling on the truth again. Hermione was a girl, they were less likely to make fun of you for emotions and stuff. "This is just... well, it's the first time I've actually seen my parents. It's kind of brilliant, particularly if what this says about them is true."

"You mean them sacrificing themselves for you? I thought that was really moving and kind of sad." She looked a little hesitant though and finally asked, "You really didn't know how they... well, how they died? You've never even seen a picture?"

"Nope." He smiled bitterly, back to the tight-lipped version he had picked up from his mentor. "My aunt and uncle told me they were drunks who died in a car crash they caused with me in the car."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "That's terrible!"

He shrugged and said, "What's terrible is that I actually believed them. I know how much they hate me, I should have guessed they were lying.

"Anyway, let's talk about something else."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, yes, Harry is basically a drug dealer in this one- not particularly violent, but he's definitely even less respectful of authority than he was in the books, albeit less inclined to show it. He also has even less of an introduction to the Wizarding World, which will cause a few additional changes. The snippet below is from fourth year and highlights one of the items that prompted my writing this in the first place.

Obviously likely to be a bit more mature than the early books at least, but we're not talking Breaking Bad levels here.

 _Chapter ?: 4th Year_

* * *

"Harry, you… I was wondering, I mean, I know I'm a little behind on my payments, but… it's just, I've been trying, I mean… I was wondering…"

"Spit it out, Neville."

"My, my parents. It's just, the… Juice, it just, it takes away all my worries and the anxiety and stuff, so I was wondering, could you use it on them?"

Harry stared at Neville. The sap was his best customer, but seriously? "You had better not have told your parents about this, Neville. I know your family has the whole 'might as well be a squib' thing going on, but if you broke your oath you are really-"

"No, no! I didn't, really, I wouldn't do that to you, Harry. You're my friend!"

Harry refrained from shaking his head. It was always a little sad to hear the hard core addicts start spouting off about friendship and loyalty and stuff. Good for business, but a little hard to listen to. "What are you talking about then, Nev?"

Swallowing, Neville looked at his feet as he said, "I… don't talk about this often, all right. But my parents, well, they're not really around."

"Go on." It obviously wasn't the orphan thing that Harry had going on, but the pain in Neville's voice was practically audible. He was almost tempted to offer the kid a hit of the Imp juice just to calm him down.

He didn't though, of course.

"At the end of the war, just after you killed, uh, You-Know-Who, his followers attacked my house. I don't know why. Information? Because they could? My grandma never told me." Neville started playing with a loose thread on his robes, then took a deep breath and continued on. "They were… they were tortured though. With the Cruciatus curse, it's why I almost broke down after Moody's class. It kind of struck close to home.

Anyway, the damage, well, it left them insane. In constant pain and… I just, Imp makes me feel so much better I thought… maybe it would give them a break, you know? Give them a couple hours without the pain."

Neville's eyes flicked up, just for a second and the sheer hope in his eyes struck Harry like a punch in the gut. The most hapless Gryffindor looked down again before the flat expression on the Boy-Who-Lived's face broke, but Harry turned away anyway to think. He really felt for the kid, but…

"Where are they at, Neville?"

"…St. Mungo's." The answer was a whisper, the boy obviously knowing this was probably a deal breaker. He didn't know about the Invisibility Cloak, but this was still… if there were wards or anything that could detect an Unforgiveable…

Harry ran his hand through his long hair and grimaced. Neville was quiet, familiar enough with the process by now to let his dealer think and not bug him.

The boy, he always thought of Neville like that despite the fact that they were almost the same age down to the day, was one of his best customers. He was wealthy, quiet in the right ways, and had all the self-confidence of a wet paper bag. It was a great combination for a consistent, relatively safe source of galleons.

More importantly though, he brought in people like himself.

Crap, he was going to do it. Correction. He was going to have Hermione research the hell out of St. Mungos, find out how dangerous this really was, but... he was probably going to do it if there weren't any red flags.

"You know this is going to cost you, right?"


End file.
